


need you so much (wanna feel your warm touch)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Enthusiastic Consent, Gangbang, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Rimming, Team Bonding, anyway kc got a hat trick so, congrats buddy! now get rekt, now lets see if i remember Everything, one (1) moment of sweetness at the end cause... you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22096039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Kyle scores a hat trick against the Avs. His team rewards him properly.(kyle isn't nervous. he knows they'll take care of him.)
Relationships: Kyle Connor/Winnipeg Jets Ensemble, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100





	need you so much (wanna feel your warm touch)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the jets insta for posting "it's OUR boy KC!" and then kendall immediately saying "kc gangbang?" so i wrote this in two days.
> 
> thanks also to da boyz who helped me figure out all the uh. configurations of this. the unanimous decision that adam lowry eats ass. that scheif should be last (team mom et cetera). you know who you are, luv you.
> 
> i've always felt the jets were lacking when it came to gangbang fic considering there are, uh, zero, so i... amend this. i shouldn't say i'm Founding jets gangbang content because if you know you know but glad to open that door in front of hundreds of strangers kjsgjkgh
> 
> title from "come softly to me" by the fleetwoods

The locker room buzzes with energy after the game. Almost every guy who passes Kyle’s stall pats his shoulders or ruffles his hair while he undoes his skates, laughing and congratulating him on the hatty.

Kyle can’t really stop smiling during his interview, still replaying the way the puck had gone in on his third goal. He settles back into his stall when he’s done and gets started taking off the rest of his gear.

Blake sits beside him in his own stall. He doesn’t speak for a long moment and Kyle doesn’t pay any special attention to him because they’re both busy getting undressed.

Soon enough, media clears out and the team gets a little louder. Kyle is laughing at something Adam is talking about when Blake drops a hand onto his knee and squeezes to get his attention.

“KC,” he says, and that’s all he needs to say, really. There’s a question behind his eyes and encouragement in his eyes. 

Kyle knows what he’s asking. He hasn’t done it before, not really. The last time he scored a hat trick was so close to the playoffs that everyone was exhausted and distracted, and Helle’s shutout had added to the post-game distractions. Hardly anybody had time for him then.

Now, it’s New Year’s Eve. The team has a day off tomorrow after they fly back to Winnipeg.

Heat rushes up Kyle’s spine and he feels his face flush. He bites his lower lip and nods, a little shaky. 

“Good,” Blake says. He smiles, comforting. “You’re our boy, KC,” he adds. “We’ll take care of you.” He digs his fingers into the soft skin of Kyle’s inner thigh before letting go. “You know what to do.”

He does. Kyle has never been on the receiving end before—he doesn’t count his last hat trick, when Patrik put him on his knees in the showers before jerking him off and sucking a bruise into his throat. Nikolaj had watched, obviously, but it hadn’t felt like the other times they do this. It had felt too _ small, _ somehow.

This time, he thinks, most of the team will get involved. There won’t be anything small or close about it now.

He knows what to do, though. Just because he’s never really been taking it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been on the other side.

Kyle shivers as he takes off his under armour, goosebumps covering his bare arms and not because the locker room is especially cold. The sound of the fireworks from the ice fades, leaving the room mostly quiet. He grabs his towel but instead of making his way to the showers, he walks to the middle of the room and folds it on the floor. 

He looks at it for a long moment, swallows hard, and gets on his knees. 

He’s mindful to follow the example of some of the other guys who’ve been here before, keeping his hands curled in loose fists on top of his thighs and his eyes lowered. Anticipation settles hot under his skin. He tries to control his breathing.

Some of the married guys head out early, making sure to stop and touch Kyle’s hair or the back of his neck before they go. Somebody drops a noisy kiss to the top of his head and laughs brightly on the way out. Kyle grins to himself and some of the tension building in his stomach fades away.

It’s easy to zone out with the comforting, familiar sounds of the locker room surrounding him and his teammates so close by. They’ll take care of him—of course they will.

A warm hand curls around his chin, tilting his face up. Kyle blinks up at Blake, who grins down at him reassuringly. 

Captain first, Kyle remembers. He’s never cared about the order before, not when he was keen for his own turn, but he wonders if he should’ve paid more attention before.

“You remember the rules, right?” Blake asks. 

Kyle nods. “I say no, it stops,” he says. “I say slow down, it slows down. The guys know my limits, too.” 

Blake rubs his thumb over Kyle’s cheekbone and Kyle shivers, melts into it. Blake looks amused. “Good,” he says. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle says. His voice is already breathy. He doesn’t bother letting himself feel embarrassed, not here and not now. He scored a hat trick and his team is going to reward him for it.

Someone hooks up their music, playing something slow but with a heavy bass that Kyle can practically feel in his _ bones. _

Blake brushes his fingers over his mouth, then presses harder until Kyle parts his lips and sucks on them. Kyle stares up through his eyelashes and pulls back, letting Blake’s fingers rest against his lower lip. His tongue darts out to taste Blake’s fingers again and he grins when they twitch against his mouth.

A couple guys laugh, probably at the expression on Blake’s face, and Kyle grins wider. Blake rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He drops his hand from Kyle’s mouth, only to fist a hand in Kyle’s hair, shockingly, perfectly tight.

Kyle chokes on a moan, swaying on his knees as he tries to stay upright while still pushing into the sting on his scalp. Every guy in the locker room knows _ exactly _how much he likes getting his hair pulled. He realizes with a shiver that this will probably set the tone for how everybody treats him when it’s their turn.

Blake loosens his grip in Kyle’s hair to rub the pads of his fingers over his scalp, a considering look in his eyes. “I think I’ll take it easy on you to start,” he says. He glances behind Kyle and smiles, amused. “I know somebody else won’t.”

Kyle swallows hard, because he knows Connor is in his stall not far behind him, and he got a penalty that let the Avs score. He takes a moment to be relieved that Connor will probably be nicer to him for the hat trick—probably.

Then Blake pulls down his shorts and steps up close to Kyle again. “No hands,” Blake says, getting one hand in Kyle’s hair and another around his cock. He’s already half hard and it doesn’t take long until he’s all the way there. 

Kyle opens his mouth and lets Blake push in. He stays still and keeps his teeth covered, waiting for Blake to get all the way in. None of the guys have showered yet, including Blake, and he tastes and smells like… well, like he just played a hockey game.

Still, Kyle’s been around sweaty hockey players since he could walk and he’s pretty damn sure _ he _ doesn’t smell like spring roses either, so he ignores it. After all, Blake got two goals, too. He deserves his own reward, and Kyle is going to be the one to give it to him.

Blake grips his hair tight and rocks into his mouth slowly, careful not to choke him. Kyle moans when Blake’s hands twist in his hair and his hips twitch uselessly. Blake jerks at the vibration around his cock before going still and making sure Kyle is okay.

To convince Blake that he’s fine, Kyle pushes forward and gags a bit before pressing on. He hollows his cheeks and _ sucks. _

“Fuck,” Blake says, sounding like his teeth are clenched together. “Fuck, _ fuck—” _ He groans and comes down Kyle’s throat, hands tight in Kyle’s hair and keeping him exactly where he wants.

Kyle doesn’t mind. He swallows easily and sags back when Blake lets him go. He licks his lips and grins when Blake ruffles his hair with an exasperated sigh.

“Lows,” Blake says, stepping away from Kyle, “you’re up.”

Somebody whistles as Adam steps over to Kyle and Adam blushes, but he’s grinning at Kyle when he joins him on the floor. Kyle shivers a bit. Adam’s favourite move is something of a specialty at this point.

So much so, in fact, that Adam just tilts his head at Kyle and says, “you want?” He looks expectant.

Nobody, Kyle knows, has ever had anything bad to say about Adam’s mouth. In fact, he seems to remember Nikolaj looking a little starry-eyed every time Adam walked in the room for about a week after his last hat trick, and Patrik checking Adam maybe a little too hard in practice for even longer.

“I want,” Kyle says, voice shaking just a bit. His voice is ragged from the blowjob, but Adam doesn’t even blink.

Adam grins. “Cool,” he says cheerfully, and he gets to work on putting Kyle exactly where he wants him. 

Kyle flushes when he’s finished, on his knees and elbows in front of the team. It’s hard not to feel a bit self-conscious. Adam rubs his back gently, murmuring reassurances that the rest of the guys can’t hear.

“Okay,” Kyle finally says. He pushes his hips back. “Come on.” As much as he liked blowing Blake, he’s remained mostly untouched. He wants—He wants something.

Adam doesn’t waste any time. He spreads Kyle open and gets his mouth on his hole, licking into him roughly. His short beard scratches against Kyle’s skin, contrasting with the softness of his tongue.

There’s nothing for Kyle to put his face in, nothing for him to muffle his noises. He fists his hands in the rough towel and moans, open-mouthed and high. Adam grabs his hips and holds him in place so he can get deeper.

Kyle’s knees slip as he tries to spread his legs, wanting Adam’s tongue inside him, not caring about the beard burn. He knows it’s going to make sitting down uncomfortable for a while, but he just doesn’t care.

He _ feels _ Adam laugh against him and whines at the buzz that sends through his body. Heat twists down his spine to settle in his belly, burning hot.

“Adam,” he gasps, “Ad—ah—” He’s cut off by a strangled moan when Adam curls his tongue just inside his rim.

Laughter. “Don’t let him come just yet,” somebody says. The rushing in Kyle’s ears is loud enough that he can’t tell who.

Almost apologetically, Adam pulls away with a last kiss to Kyle’s hole that makes him jerk. Kyle tries to turn over, to offer his mouth or his hand, but Adam just places a hand on his hip to keep him where he is.

“Just stay there and look pretty, okay?” Adam says. His voice is strained like he’s jerking off.

Kyle bows his head forward, resting his forehead against his fists, and tries to spread his legs again. Behind him, Adam bites off a groan and comes on Kyle’s ass.

It’s hot and slick against his skin and Kyle shivers as Adam runs his fingers through it. Adam gathers some of it on his fingers and rubs over Kyle’s hole with it again. 

Kyle is limp and trembling from the orgasm that he was denied. All he can do as Adam rubs his come into his skin is whimper and take it. It’s okay, though. He likes it. 

“Alright, alright, enough already,” someone—Mark?—says. “You’ve had your turn, bro.” 

Adam grumbles, but drops his hand. He wipes a towel over Kyle, just enough to clean up the worst of his mess, and disappears.

Kyle waits for whoever is coming next, head still pressed to the floor while he catches his breath.

“Hey, buddy,” Jack says, dropping a hand to the back of Kyle’s neck. He curls his hand in Kyle’s hair and urges him to lift his head. Jack is smiling at him, easy and familiar. “You’ve still got a lot of guys left, bud. You good?”

“‘m good,” Kyle mumbles, smiling lazily and pushing into Jack’s hand. “You gonna fuck me, Rosie?” He knows Jack likes to do that—to be first, to get to push his fingers inside and make space for himself. Kyle wants him to.

Jack grins wider. “Yeah,” he says. “First, though—” and Kyle is already leaning in to meet him, because Jack likes the kissing almost as much as he likes the fucking. 

Kyle and Jack have kissed a couple times, usually when they’re drunk, or when they’re horny enough to want to get off but tired enough that they don’t want to go out to pick up and end up horizontal on the couch.

Jack’s kisses are warm, soft and comfortable. He runs his fingers through Kyle’s sweaty hair, smiling against his mouth at the quiet noise Kyle makes. Kyle lets himself get lost in it. 

He barely hears the snap of the lube being opened, but he _ definitely _ feels Jack’s cold fingers press against his hole. Jack doesn’t tease him long before he slips two fingers inside.

It’s easy after the time Adam spent opening him up on his tongue and Kyle breaks the kiss to suck in a breath, dropping his head against Jack’s shoulder. Jack strokes up his spine, soothing the burn just under Kyle’s skin, and slowly starts to move his fingers.

Kyle mouths at Jack’s neck to give himself a distraction while Jack fucks him with his fingers. He’s unpredictable, curling them hard against his prostate one moment and scissoring them slowly the next.

It is, frankly, driving Kyle crazy. 

He tries to fuck himself back on the fingers inside him, panting wetly against Jack’s skin, but Jack just laughs and controls the pace.

“C’mon, man,” he says, “just let me make you feel good.” To emphasize his point, he adds a third finger and pushes all three into Kyle’s prostate. 

Kyle bites off a moan. “I’d ‘feel good,’” he hisses, “if you stopped _ teasing.” _

Some of the guys laugh. “Yeah, Rosie,” Nate calls, “give us something to watch already!” That gets mixed laughter and joking boos. 

“Fine, fine,” Jack grumbles. “So demanding.” He makes sure Kyle is stretched properly, but he keeps it brisk and efficient after that. He pulls his fingers out after a while and slicks up his cock, looking carefully at Kyle. “How are your knees?” he asks.

Kyle hasn’t been paying attention to his knees, really, but now that he thinks about it, he’s starting to get a little sore from balancing on them for so long. That must show on his face, because Jack pushes him to lie on his back.

“Better,” Kyle says before Jack can ask. 

He lets Jack press his legs up and pull him back so he’s half in Jack’s lap, then Jack pushes inside.

_ “Fuck, _ you’re tight,” Jack groans, biting down hard on his lower lip while he gets himself under control.

Normally, the guys watching like to chirp other guys for their dirty talk or whatever, but the room is silent beyond the music and the sound of ragged breathing.

Confused, Kyle tears his eyes away from Jack’s face and looks around. Everyone is watching, some of them slowly stroking their cocks for when their turn comes. Their eyes on him… it’s almost too much. He forces himself not to look at anybody for too long.

Nikolaj is straddling Patrik’s lap, one of Patrik’s hands down the back of his underwear. Judging by the twitching of Nikolaj’s hips and his barely audible moans, Patrik is fingering him open.

Kyle twitches when he realizes what for and Jack curses, hips stilling. His fingers flex around Kyle’s hips.

“Easy,” he mutters before getting back to the task of working himself deeper.

“Sorry,” Kyle says, his voice barely more than a whine. He drops his head to the side, panting.

Mark stares back at him. His blue eyes are as intense as when he’s playing overtime in the playoffs, burning hot on Kyle’s face. Kyle can’t look away. He’s hard—that much is obvious through his tight under armour—but he isn’t touching himself.

Kyle can’t guess what for. Alternates go last, and Kyle has never stuck around to see what Mark does with the guys who do this.

With a quick thrust, Jack’s cock is fully inside. Kyle gasps, eyes fluttering shut. He can still see Mark’s eyes in the black behind his eyelids.

Jack hitches Kyle’s hips up to his satisfaction and gets to work.

He doesn’t bother teasing, not this time. He knows Kyle isn’t supposed to come yet, so he focuses on chasing his own pleasure.

In fact, it almost feels like he’s deliberately avoiding Kyle’s prostate.

Kyle amends that to _ definitely _ avoiding it when Jack grins mischievously and thrusts shallowly enough to just glance over it, making him groan. “I hate you,” he groans, trying to arch his back into it.

It’s no use, obviously. Jack pulls away before he can get enough leverage for it to work, laughing softly. “No, you don’t,” he says cheerfully. 

Kyle doesn’t dignify that with a response.

It isn’t long after that before Jack grips his hips harder, his rhythm growing erratic. He drops his head forward, all banter forgotten, and grinds deep into Kyle as he comes.

He waits to catch his breath and pulls out slowly. Kyle shivers at the hot, slick feeling of Jack’s come sliding out of him. His thighs twitch like he wants to hide it, but Jack is still kneeling between his legs.

Jack pats his thigh. “Thanks, buddy. Congrats on the hatty.” He kisses Kyle one more time before pushing to his feet and heading to the showers.

Kyle doesn’t have time to draw his legs up before Mason is beside him, urging him back onto his knees. Mason stands, petting his hair for a moment.

“Nice hatty,” he says, then he pulls Kyle forward.

It’s easy for Kyle to take his dick in his mouth. His technique is probably a little sloppier now than it was with Blake, but Mason doesn’t seem to care.

Warm hands settle at his waist and Kyle tenses. Mason strokes his cheek and hushes him.

“It’s just Janny,” he says.

Kyle spreads his knees wider in invitation. He almost forgets that most of Jack’s come is still inside him, the rest staining his thighs. Almost, because Jansen sucks in a gasp and gathers some on his fingers to push it back inside him.

“Fuck, KC,” Jansen mutters. “You’re so fucking _ wet.” _

Something about the way he says it makes Kyle’s face flame. He shakes, suspended between Jansen’s fingers in his ass and Mason’s cock in his mouth.

Jansen pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock. The sound Kyle makes is somewhat muffled by Mason’s cock, but he’s pretty sure everybody in the room hears it anyway.

Kyle sort of loses himself after that.

Mason comes on his face and makes him suck some of it off his fingers before wiping the rest off with a towel. Jansen bites a bruise into the back of his shoulder before adding to the mess in his ass.

All Kyle knows from there are the two guys that have him pinned between them, one’s cock in his mouth and the other’s in his ass. He doesn’t know who, sometimes, usually because he never sees the faces of the guys who fuck him. They still won’t let him come, but he doesn’t mind anymore. He knows they’ll get him there eventually. For now, he’ll just enjoy what the team gives him.

Finally, Nate comes down his throat and steps away.

For a moment, nobody else comes closer and Kyle is left shivering on his ruined towel, messy with come and lube and the chill of the locker room creeping in now that his teammates aren’t touching him anymore. He starts to curl closer in on himself, uncertain if anyone is going to take their turn.

Then Nikolaj is there, looking nearly as wrecked as Kyle feels. Kyle knows without looking that Patrik is behind him.

“Hi,” Nikolaj says softly. “Are you up for this?”

Kyle has a pretty good idea of what Nikolaj means, but he wants to hear him say it. He leans forward until his nose is almost touching Nikolaj’s and Nikolaj’s eyes almost cross trying to look at him. “What,” he says, voice ruined, “would that be?”

It’s Patrik who answers. “I want to fuck you,” he says, “and I want to watch you fuck Nik. At the same time.” He sweeps a hand down from the sweaty tangle of Kyle’s hair to the slickness of his hole, sliding three fingers inside easily. “We might even let you come.” He curls his fingers against Kyle’s prostate and laughs softly at the way Kyle’s entire body jerks at the touch.

Kyle whimpers and lets them arrange him however they want. Nikolaj lies on his back, ignoring the gross towel, and wraps his legs around Kyle’s waist to pull him closer. He weaves his fingers into Kyle’s hair and tugs him in for a kiss.

They keep kissing while Patrik reaches around to spread lube on Kyle’s dick, quick and efficient. Kyle’s relieved, because he probably would’ve come if Patrik had left his hand there for a second longer. He realizes dimly that that’s the first time he’s had his cock touched all night.

Nikolaj urges him forward, pressing his hips back against Kyle. The slide is made easy after all the time Patrik spent fingering Nikolaj, and Kyle drops his forehead to Nikolaj’s chest, breathing hard so he doesn’t come instantly.

Patrik rubs his back, his touch soothing, then he grips Kyle’s hips and pushes in easily, hands tight on Kyle’s waist. The force of his thrust jostles Kyle forward, pushing him deeper into Nikolaj.

“Oh,” Nikolaj sighs, arching his back. “‘s good.” He moans when Patrik does it again, rocking back onto Kyle’s cock. He’s slick with lube, hot around Kyle’s cock and just tight enough that Nikolaj can probably feel a bit of a stretch.

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut and bites the inside of his cheek _ hard, _trying to hold on a little longer against the orgasm building inside him.

Nikolaj reaches up with one shaking hand and tangles it in Kyle’s hair. He tightens his fingers, pulls, and Kyle can’t hold on anymore.

His hips jerk forward, shoving his cock deeper into Nikolaj as he comes. He can’t stop punched-out noises from escaping him, grinding _ in-in-in _ as he fucks Nikolaj through it. Nikolaj spasms underneath him and comes over both their stomachs, shaking.

Patrik pauses and lets Nikolaj squirm out from beneath them to collapse on the floor, his head turned to watch and his fingers tracing through the come on his belly. Patrik wraps an arm under Kyle’s chest and pulls him up to sit in his lap, his back to Patrik’s front. Kyle lets him.

Now that Kyle has come, he’s limp and useless in Patrik’s lap. Patrik doesn’t care, holding him up and fucking into him with short, sharp thrusts that have Kyle’s thighs shaking again. Like this, he’s on display for the entire room. They can all see how desperate he still is.

Patrik fucks other people’s come back into him, but some of it leaks out onto his thighs. Kyle can hear it—hear how wet he is. He flushes, not quite in shame, and he drops his head back on Patrik’s shoulder and closes his eyes. 

Patrik bites the side of Kyle’s neck, making him cry out softly before laving his tongue over it the mark. He murmurs quiet words in Finnish into Kyle’s ears, the tone of his voice making Kyle shiver. Whatever he’s saying sounds absolutely filthy. 

Finally, Patrik grinds up into him with jerking movements, coming hot inside him. Patrik strokes down his side with the hand not holding Kyle up until Kyle stops shaking as much, then he lowers Kyle carefully to the floor and turns him onto his back.

Kyle stays sprawled over his towel, no longer trying to hide anything. Patrik helps him stretch out his legs before he stands up and leaves him, pulling Nikolaj up as he goes.

Nikolaj bends down to pet his fingers through Kyle’s hair on the way to the showers, grinning at the dazed look on his face.

Kyle notices that the music has stopped, leaving the room silent except for the sound of his own breathing and the heartbeat thumping in his ears.

Almost everyone has had a turn by now. Everyone except the alternates and—

Connor steps into his line of sight, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Hi, KC,” he says, his familiar Michigan accent soothing compared to the sharpness of his eyes. He kneels between Kyle’s legs, rubbing his palms up his inner thighs. “You know you fucked up, right?” he says, conversational. “Four minutes,” he adds, like Kyle somehow forgot.

“‘m sorry,” Kyle says. His words slur together. His voice will probably need a couple of days to recover. He swallows hard, watches Connor’s gaze follow the motion of his throat. He bites his lip nervously.

“You did get a hat trick, though,” Connor says. He scrapes his fingernails over Kyle’s sensitive skin. He smirks. “So I’ll let you come.” _ Eventually _goes unsaid.

Connor teases him until he’s hard again, petting his thighs, his hair, his chest, and making Kyle shake under his hands. He waits until Kyle is arching his hips again, eager for any touch, and only then does Connor touch him properly.

His strokes are perfectly tight and fast. Kyle feels the familiar heat building inside him, tossing his head back as he braces to come again, and—

Connor stops.

He backs off completely, not touching Kyle at all, still smiling despite Kyle’s outraged expression. He waits, inches away, until Kyle comes down a bit. 

Then he does it again.

He works Kyle over with his hands and his fingers and his mouth until Kyle is crying and feeling like he’s going to fly apart. He can barely form words anymore, his lips parted around the soft moans that are all he can manage right now.

Connor hooks Kyle’s limp legs over his shoulders and pushes in smoothly, starting a quick pace immediately. He jerks Kyle in time with his thrusts and bends Kyle in half so he can get his mouth level with Kyle’s ear.

“You’ve been good,” Connor murmurs, “you’ve been so good, you can come now.”

And that’s all it takes. Connor holds Kyle through his orgasm as all the pent-up, useless energy from the denial escapes him and leaves him boneless on the floor. Connor lowers Kyle’s legs around his hips and takes another few thrusts before he finishes, each movement sending tremors through Kyle’s body.

Connor is slow to pull out, brushing a soothing kiss over Kyle’s cheekbone when he does. He raises an eyebrow at Kyle, asking a wordless question.

“I’m good,” Kyle says hoarsely. He pats Connor’s cheek clumsily. “Sorry ‘bout the goal, buddy.”

Connor rolls his eyes fondly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. He presses a firmer kiss to Kyle’s forehead and pushes off. 

Kyle turns his head, exhaustion making him move slowly. It’s just Josh and Mark left, now.

“Who’s next?” he asks.

Josh doesn’t even look at Mark before he stands up. Kyle figures they’ve got some kind of system in place at this point and reaches out for Josh as he settles between Kyle’s legs. He just _ looks _ at Kyle for long enough that Kyle has to look away, suddenly embarrassed.

“C’mon, man,” he says, hands fluttering uselessly over his abdomen.

Josh smiles and takes his wrists, pulling his hands away. “Let me,” he says gently. His voice is soft and his eyes are steady, and Kyle lets him move his hands away.

Josh’s thing, apparently, is moving down Kyle’s body to get his mouth on Kyle’s cock, slipping three fingers inside at the same time. His mouth is wet and warm and soft and his fingers massage Kyle’s prostate.

Kyle might not have thought that he’d be able to get hard again so soon, let alone come, but under Josh’s careful mouth and fingers, he’s right back at the edge faster than should be possible.

“What the fuck,” Kyle says raggedly, staring up at the ceiling. His hands are fisted in the towel and his thighs are shaking on either side of Josh’s head. “Bro, are you, like—uh—magic, or—ah—” Kyle almost swallows his own tongue when Josh teases a fourth finger against his rim, then slides it in.

Josh laughs around his cock, the vibration buzzing through him like a shockwave.

Kyle’s third orgasm is weak, leaving him immobile on the floor. Josh sucks him through it until he’s satisfied, then sits up on his haunches and jerks off with his free hand. He slides two of his fingers out of Kyle, holding him open and keeping his hips propped up until he comes on Kyle’s hole. 

Kyle gasps at the feeling, similar to but somehow _ different _ than all the times the guys came inside. Josh pushes some of it inside as he pulls his fingers out, smirking. He pats Kyle’s knee. 

“Great game, bud,” he says. His voice is a little rougher now, too, after having Kyle’s cock down his throat. “Thanks for the, well.” He looks Kyle up and down. “You know.” He wipes the come off his fingers and heads for the showers.

Mark is beside him before Kyle even gets a chance to look over. He kneels next to Kyle and gets an arm around his shoulders, pulling until he sits up. Kyle leans against him heavily.

“Scheif,” he mumbles. “What, um.” He doesn’t know what he wants to ask. His brain feels like mush. 

Mark rubs the back of his neck and Kyle practically melts. “Can you stand?” Mark asks.

“Can I—” He frowns at Mark’s dick, still hard between his legs, but Mark grabs his chin and tips his face back up. “But you—?”

Mark shakes his head. “I’m here to take care of you now,” he says firmly. “Now, can you stand?”

Together, they manage to maneuver until Kyle is mostly vertical. He’s still slumped against Mark. His legs feel like cooked spaghetti and he thinks he’ll fall down if he tries to stand by himself.

Mark snags a clean towel and sets in Kyle’s stall, then sits Kyle down and starts to tidy up. Kyle watches him at first, but fatigue is catching up with him. He closes his eyes and dozes in his stall for a few minutes.

“Hey, I’ve got this,” he hears Josh say eventually. “Go take care of him.”

Mark’s hands are on him again, half-guiding and half-carrying him to the showers. Kyle keeps his eyes closed under the spray while Mark washes his body. His hands are warm and steady and Kyle almost falls asleep right then and there.

“Hey,” Mark says, the sharpness of his voice cutting through the haze, “don’t pass out on me now, okay?” He’s smiling when Kyle blinks his eyes open, though.

Kyle shrugs and leans into him again. He sighs when Mark rubs shampoo into his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp long after the suds have washed away.

Mark murmurs nonsense comfort into his ear when he drops his hands to Kyle’s ass to wash away the come and lube, and Kyle pushes his face into Mark’s shoulder and shudders against him. When he’s done, Mark strokes down his back until he stops trembling so much.

The locker room is empty and tidy when they step out of the showers. Kyle sits in his stall while Mark quickly gets dressed, watching Mark’s hands on the buttons of his shirt.

“It’s late,” Mark says, half to himself, and doesn’t bother asking Kyle to put his suit back on. Instead, he grabs an extra hoodie and sweats from his own stuff and helps Kyle get dressed.

The fabric feels rough against his sensitive skin, but it’s warm and smells like Mark. He notices the _ 55 _ on his chest and feels his face warm. 

Everyone in the building is long gone besides a few arena workers, so Mark calls a cab and they wait outside. Mark keeps his arm around Kyle’s shoulders. He doesn’t want him to get cold. 

In the backseat of the cab, Kyle slides over to take the middle seat so he can rest his head on Mark’s shoulder and shut his eyes.

Carefully, Mark takes his hand and laces their fingers together. He sweeps his thumb across Kyle’s knuckles, a steady back and forth all the way back to the hotel.

The hotel lobby is empty so late at night and Mark accompanies Kyle all the way to his room. Kyle unlocks the door, his hands still a little shaky, then he turns to say goodbye to Mark. 

Mark isn’t making any move to leave yet. His eyes flick to where his number is on Kyle’s chest and he swallows hard. 

“Do you want to, um.” Kyle clears his throat and tries to stop sounding so uncertain. “Stay. Please,” he says. He extends his hand across the threshold, waiting. 

Mark takes his hand and steps into the room. He shuts the door behind him, then looks thoughtfully at Kyle. He reaches out and cups his hand around the side of Kyle’s neck, fingertips pressing into the bruises there. Kyle winces.

“How are you doing?” Mark asks. His touch is light and gentle as he strokes Kyle’s raw skin. “Still okay?” 

Kyle nods. He sways a little on his feet and Mark catches his shoulders.

“Just tired,” Kyle says. He yawns, proving his point. 

“Get changed,” Mark tells him, ushering him deeper into the room, “and brush your teeth.” 

Kyle licks his lips and wrinkles his nose at the taste. He should’ve figured that that many guys coming in his mouth would give him some funky breath, but he didn’t think of it. Okay, granted, he had other things on his mind at the time.

He brushes his teeth pretty lazily, mostly just focused on getting the taste of come out of his mouth, then stumbles back into the main part of the room. 

Mark is sitting on the edge of the bed, only dressed in his undershirt and pants. “Some of the guys are planning to ring in the new year,” Mark tells him.

Kyle blinks and checks the time. It’s nearly midnight already. All he really wants right now is to crawl under the blankets and sleep for as long as he can, though. He just shakes his head and pulls off his—Mark’s sweatpants. He leaves the hoodie on and tucks his hands into the sleeves.

Mark watches as Kyle climbs into bed and curls up beneath the sheets. He yawns, his jaw cracking with it, and he settles deeper into the mattress. He looks at Mark expectantly and pats the spot beside him.

“Just a minute,” Mark says, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom.

Kyle tries to stay awake, but he can’t stop his heavy eyelids from drifting shut. He forces them open each time, but it gets harder and harder. 

Mark isn’t long, sliding into bed beside Kyle in nothing but his underwear. He turns out the lights and rolls onto his side to study Kyle in the dark. Kyle squirms closer and presses his nose against Mark’s collarbone.

“I’m cold,” Kyle lies, curling as close as he can. He isn’t _ cold, _ not really, but he still feels kind of fragile. It’s nice, having somebody to hold him.

Mark doesn’t comment on the fact that Kyle is wearing his hoodie and is burrowed under the blankets. He wraps his arms around Kyle and hugs him close.

“Sorry you didn’t get to come,” Kyle whispers. 

He feels Mark shrug. “Maybe you can make it up to me later,” he says, and there’s something of a question in his voice. 

“Oh,” Kyle says softly. He looks up at Mark but can’t make out his expression in the dark. “You—really?” 

Mark shrugs again. “I mean,” he says, “yeah. If it’s okay with you. Um.” He taps a nervous beat between Kyle’s shoulders. 

“It’s okay with me,” Kyle says, shifting so his face is level with Mark’s._ “Really _ okay.” 

Outside, fireworks go off to mark the start of the new year. The new _decade._

Kyle barely hears them. All sounds fade into silence as Mark kisses him for the first time.

He thinks that 2020 is going to be a good year.

**Author's Note:**

> what's to say? not a thing. thanks for the hatty kc.
> 
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> 
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